


Scenes In Stained Glass Windows

by Marvelite5Ever



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: 10 minutes is way too short to do anything, 10-minute writing challenges, Angst, Drabbles, F/F, Humor, I don't know what to put here, I tried okay?, M/M, Random & Short, Random scenes, Why am I posting this?, drabble challenges, how does anyone accomplish interesting character stuff in only a few hundred words, omg who can write anything of worth in ten minutes, these probably suck, wth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7793098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/pseuds/Marvelite5Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Stryfe (Wade_Winston_Wilson) suggested that we try this game where we take a prompt - either a random piece of dialogue or a random first line - and write for the prompt for ten minutes, and try to have a completed scene by the time the timer goes off (I tended to take a couple extra minutes).
> 
> I don't usually force myself to write fast - I'm a very slow writer - and I don't usually write things that are so short (my stories tend to end up much longer than I intended, lol) so writing these drabbles were interesting challenges.
> 
> Prompts are in the chapter summaries.
> 
> I hope these don't completely suck, lol. Like I said, I'm not that used to forcing myself to write whatever comes to mind and not taking a ton of time consider ideas and rework sentences (which I still kinda did anyway, hence why these are all so short - I really can't get that much in ten minutes; the longer ones were done in more around fifteen to twenty minutes). When I'm writing normally, me staring at the screen for ten minutes without typing anything isn't an uncommon occurrence, lol.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought someone should tell you that your mother has died."

* * *

Wade strode into Nathan's office wearing a black suit, white dress shirt, and red tie over his normal Deadpool outfit. 

Nathan glanced up at him, brow furrowing, watching warily as Deadpool came and pulled up a chair, sitting on the other side of Nathan's desk.

Deadpool cleared his throat, fiddling with the red rose tucked into the buttonhole on his lapel. **“I thought someone should tell you that your mother has died,”** he said in a deep, somber voice. 

Nathan stared at him. “Madelyne Pryor? I know that she's dead.” 

**“Who?”** Deadpool said, tilting his head. **“I was talking about Jean Grey.”**

“Jean Grey's not my mother,” Nathan said patiently, folding his hands on the desk, lips quirking slightly as the eyes of Deadpool's mask widened beyond all logical reason. “Also, Jean dies about every other week.” 

Deadpool laughed, then, and ripped a few blood-red petals from the rose boutonniere, scattering them carelessly on the desk. **“Guess her death's almost as little news as my own, huh?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool's dialogue is in bold because these are short and I was indulging myself.


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm ready to try again, if you are."

* * *

Cable panted, straightening as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I'm ready to try again, if you are,” he said. 

**“You sure?”** Deadpool asked, but he was grinning behind the mask as he sauntered over, poking Cable in the chest. **“You're lookin' a little tired there, old geezer. Maybe we should stop the power play for today?”**

“Sometimes I don't understand your word choice,” Cable said, shaking his head, but he stepped back, bracing himself. “I'm fine. Let's try it again.” 

Deadpool grinned as he started walking backwards, not looking where he was going but effortlessly stepping over the various pieces of debris in the yard of the abandoned mansion they'd temporarily taken over for battle practice. **“Very well then, stubborn old man. You just need an eyepatch and cane, then you'd be all Koh and shit!”**

“I haven no idea what you're talking about,” Cable told him blandly, rolling his shoulders and shifting his stance. 

**“We can practice this telekenetic fastball special as much as you want, Nate, but you're never gonna be as good as Colossus,”** Deadpool grinned, still stepping backwards as he waggled his eyebrows behind the mask. **“Not in many ways. Physical, moral, sexual, making-it-into-my-first-movie-al...”**

Cable rolled his eyes. “And you called me an old geezer. Hurry up, already.” 

**“Aye aye, Capi-tan!”** Deadpool crowed, and broke into a break-neck run, launching himself at Cable and finding himself telekenetically flung through the air, high above the roof of the mansion that was supposed to be his landing pad. 

“Where did you throw him?” Domino asked, coming over to Cable's side and watching as Deadpool arced over the trees.

“Uhh...” Cable lifted his hand to shield the sun from his eyes. “Over there.” He grinned sheepishly. “Oops?” 

Domino rolled her eyes. “Stop getting so jealous over all the stupid things Deadpool says.” 

“I'm pretty sure he does it on purpose,” Cable muttered.


	3. Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone.”

* * *

Deadpool was hardly surprised when, as he was walking by a dark alley, a strong hand reached out and grabbed him, and the next thing he knew he was pressed against the grimy wall, a familiar eye sparking above him in the gloom. 

“Midnight, on the bridge,” Cable growled. “Come alone.” 

**“My my, if it isn't Cable Nathan Dayspring Askani'son Jerkface Summers, my favorite stalker!”** Deadpool grinned, smirking up into the shadowed and dour face. **“Did you have a particular bridge in mind for this midnight tryst?”**

Cable growled and released him, stepping back, “Midnight, Wade. The bridge. Come alone,” he repeated, before disappearing in a bodysliding flash.

Deadpool sighed, rubbing absently at his cracked collarbone. Geez, the guy was still strong as hell. Had he smashed him against the wall with his metal arm? Damn. 

Stepping out of the alley back onto the grubby New York sidewalk, he strolled back towards his apartment, whistling jovially, hands in the invisible front pockets of his red and black spandex pants as he made an internal list of all the items he should bring to the meeting place.

His swords, of course, and all his favorite guns. And maybe a buzooka and a condom, just in case. 

That just left the question of which bridge Cable had meant.


	4. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You embarrassed me this evening.”

* * *

**“You embarrassed me this evening,”** Wade said, wagging his finger at Nathan disappointedly. **“What the hell _was_ that, refusing to play all the arcade games and then making a huge scene out of a little broken glass, huh?!”**

Nathan straightened his shoulders, jaw tightening, but didn't look at him. “The man threw a beer bottle at you and called you an ugly freak and told you to get out.”

 **“So?!”** Wade said, spreading his arms exasperatedly, glaring. **“You didn't have to go all terrifying wanna-be-world-dictator on the guy!”**

“I lost my temper,” Nathan said, still not meeting his eyes. “I don't think that's an unreasonable reaction from your boyfriend.” 

**“Yeah, but I don't _need you_ to fight my battles for me!”** Wade said furiously. **“I've been dealing with that shit for as long as I can remember, and I am perfectly capable of handling it myself!”**

Nathan looked at him, then, blinking. Wade was fuming. 

“Oh,” Nathan realized, He reached out. “Wade, I wasn't trying to insinuate that you're incompetent or can't handle yourself, I just—”

 **“Save it!”** Wade snapped, slapping Nathan's hand away and glaring at him, lips pulling into a sneer. **“You can try to protect the world all you want—hell, the world needs all the protection it can get—but stop _treating me like I'm some childish moron who can't take care of himself!”_**

“Wade, I didn't mean—” Nathan said, eyes desperate as he reached for the mercenary. “Wade, wait, please, I—” 

But Wade was already striding out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Nathan's hand fell to his side. He stared at the door, an emptiness in his chest, the words, “I love you” dying on his lips.


	5. Problematic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Am I supposed to be scared now?”

* * *

**“Am I supposed to be scared now?”** Deadpool asked, amused, as he stared down the deadly end of the barrel pointed at his face. 

_“Wade,”_ Cable ground out, metal hand tightening its grip on the plasma-rifle. _“I mean it.”_

Humor seemed to be dancing behind the blank white eyes of the Deadpool mask. **“So do I, Nate. Kill me if you want, we both know it's not going to solve any of our problems.”**

A hesitation of the trigger finger was all it took for the plasma-rifle to end up in Deadpool's hands, pointed back at the wannabe-messiah. 

Deadpool purred. **“But what happens to all our problems if I kill _you_ , hm?”**

A wry grin pulled at Cable's lips. “All our problems end,” he murmured. Softly, like a secret. “All our problems end; I'll be dead. And you, Wade,” he smiled, “you'll be _bored._ ”


	6. Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Somehow we need to persuade him to part with a million dollars.”

* * *

**“So basically”** Deadpool summarized, **“somehow we need to persuade him to part with a million dollars.”**

“Basically,” Cable agreed. “But we need to be—”

 **“Just leave it to me, Nate!”** Deadpool said, unsheathing both his katanas, twirling them around him in hummingbird-whirs of lethal silver glints and sharp edges, a grin stretched behind the blood-red mask, crinkling the corners of blank white eyes ringed in black. **“I'll persuade the million bucks out of him in no time!”**

“Wade, wait—!” Cable yelled after him, but Deadpool was already dropping through the skylight in a hailstorm of glass.

They spent an hour there, and they left with a billion dollars in cash. 

“We only need a million dollars, Wade,” Cable said as they left, carrying the suitcases of cash between them. 

**“Really?!”** Deadpool asked, looking at him in surprise. **“I could have sworn you said a billion! And then I said a billion before we went in, just to make sure, and you didn't correct me, so I thought I was right!”**

“You didn't say a billion, Wade,” Cable told him. “You said a million.” 

**“I did?!”** Deadpool said, looking at him with wide eyes. In a moment a red grin had blossomed. **“Well, then! It looks like we have 999 million extra! Know any cool things we can do with that amount of money, Nate?”**


	7. Resentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump.

* * *

As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump. 

Hardly daring to breath, hands shaking, Wade set the rest of the mail—just a bunch of junk letters, really—on the table, taking the handwritten envelope into his hands, running a scarred finger over the blue ink. 

The name _Wade Wilson_ was written in messy, hasty cursive, no embellishments on the loops or curves, but the letters didn't run into each other, either. 

Nathan had always had inelegant handwriting. It was one of the few things that Wade could actually do better than him, and he liked to rub it in the man's face. 

Going to school in the present definitely had its advantages. Apparently they didn't teach good penmanship in the future—the only function of writing there was apparently to send messages to each other. Their handwriting had to be fast and legible, but nothing else. 

Wade prided himself in beautiful handwriting. It was the only part of him he could actually make beautiful. 

He'd tried to teach Nathan how to write prettier once, but the man hadn't understood the point. He didn't care about aesthetics—all he cared about was function. 

It was no wonder he liked Wade. No beauty to be had, but he got the job done.

For Nathan, everything was just business. 

With a sneer of his lips, Wade ripped the envelope in half and tossed it in the trash, before stalking over to his sagging couch and flopping down, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, flipping through the channels impatiently. 

He didn't want to be Nathan's business any more.


	8. Responsible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had enjoyed ten years of being totally irresponsible.

* * *

Wade had enjoyed ten years of being totally irresponsible. 

Well, okay, it was more like he had enjoyed _at least_ ten years of being totally irresponsible. That was the only amount of time that he couldn't remember for sure. But he was pretty certain that before that he hadn't been responsible, either.

So it was more like: He had enjoyed an entire life of being totally irresponsible.

Not that he could remember it all. He could only remember the past ten years, and only brief flashes of imagery from before that that he wasn't even certain were real. Because he was had a pretty vivid memory of jumping the roof of his middle school and being saved by a giant purple octopus. 

Whatever. The point was, he had enjoyed being totally irresponsible for a long, long time.

Which was why, when Nathan asked him to watch his daughter, Hope, for a couple days while he went off to some distant point in time to do something incredibly important, Wade's eyes nearly somersaulted out of his head, and he exclaimed, **“Are you fucking crazy?! That is a _terrible_ idea! Which is saying a _lot_ , because you've had a lot of really, really fucking terrible ideas, Nate! I can't be responsible for a kid! I'm not a responsible person! I can't even be responsible for myself, most of the time! Hell, your daughter is _way more_ responsible than I am!”**

And Nate had just smirked and said, “I'm not asking you to stay with Hope to keep an eye on her while I'm gone, Wade. I'm asking you to stay with Hope so that _she_ can keep an eye on _you_ while I'm gone.”

And Wade had stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing, because that made so much more sense. 

He'd spent probably his entire life being totally irresponsible, and he wasn't about to start now.


	9. Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For some reason, I'm attracted to you.”

* * *

“For some reason, I'm attracted to you,” Nathan said, like he was talking about the weather. 

_For some reason, it started raining yesterday. It caught be completely by surprise. The skies had been blue and clear for the entire morning, and then suddenly, in under an hour, the entire sky filled with dark, heavy clouds, and then it started pouring, and I was caught outside in a t-shirt and shorts._

_And the thing was, it's not even supposed to rain around here. I don't even own an umbrella. I got completely drenched, and I still haven't been able to dry off._

Wade set his beer down on the bar counter, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. **“Welcome to my world, Nate.”**

_It's always raining, where I am. Umbrellas are shit, anyway, the rain just gets in sideways. I recommend a long, durable raincoat, with one of those drawstrings that you can pull closed around your face so that only your eyes and nose are showing._

Nathan brought his beer back to his lips, and they didn't say anything more.


	10. Heavydirtysoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had the urge to clear the ground, to look out and see nothing.

* * *

He had the urge to clear the ground, to look out and see nothing.

But no, that would be too much work. To clean up all the trash strewn in the alley, the rotten food items, the shards of class. To clean the urine and vomit from the walls. 

To clean the glass of the window. But it wasn't worth cleaning the grimy, blood-splattered class just for a clearer view of the city alley below. 

Wade breathed on the glass, rubbing it with a sleeve, smearing the grime and blood, clouding the glass further. 

He might as well just board up the window. There was nothing to see outside.

Well, that wasn't strictly true, after all. It would be better if there was nothing to see. Looking at the dark, disgusting alley was like looking down into the halls of his own soul.

There was probably a dead body down there. At least one. Even if there wasn't, he'd probably see some. Or see the empty spaces where there used to be dead bodies, the old, dried blood splatters on the pavement, the shards of glass or pieces of trash scattered by the fallen corpses. 

There was graffiti on the walls. Darkened and obscured by grime, but it was there. 

Wade had the urge to go buy a few cans of spraypaint and add 'DEADPOOL' to the mix of graffiti tags, grotesque art, swear words and violent political statements. 

Maybe he should write 'DEADPOOL FOR FUCKING PRESIDENT' with a caricature of his mask, and satisfy all the requirements.

Wade breathed on the window again and rubbed it with his sleeve until he could look out the window and not see anything.


	11. Verification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pen hadn't been worth stealing.

* * *

The pen hadn't been worth stealing, Deadpool mused, as he twirled the elegant fountain pen that used to belong to Charles Xavier between his fingers.

It even had the man's name engraved into its smooth black surface in gold. _Charles Xavier_ , in loopy, expensive, gold cursive. 

It was always fun stealing from telepaths, since you weren't supposed to be able to. Especially ones that lived at the X-Men mansion, that you weren't supposed to be able to get into. 

Deadpool grinned and uncapped the pen, drawing a Hello Kitty face on the arm of his suit. 

“Wade?” 

Deadpool didn't look up when Nathan Summers stepped in, continuing to doodle on the red spandex with the stolen pen. Hearts and flowers and butterflies with torn wings and suns with evil expressions. 

“Scott told me that there was a breach at the X-Mansion.” 

**“That so?”** Deadpool hummed, flicking the pen up into the air, catching it. 

“Nothing of consequence was stolen, but the bridge of security has him rightfully concerned.” 

**“They should maybe check the cargo compartments in their plane better, then,”** Deadpool said unconcernedly, starting to draw a row of X's on his arm. **“And maybe be more suspicious when a ton of perfume has inexplicably been sprayed everywhere.”**

There was a sigh. “Wade.” 

**“I was bored,”** Deadpool said, twirling the pen in his fingers. **“You don't want me pulling more stunts like that, then you should trust me with more missions.”**

“You don't have to prove anything, Wade.”

Deadpool threw the pen at him. Nathan caught it with his TK. 

**“You're right,”** Deadpool agreed, standing up and stretching with his arms over his head, his back making disturbing cracking noises as the vertebrae popped back into place. **“I don't.”**


	12. Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He couldn't have died at a worse time.”

* * *

They were surrounded by Predator X's.

“He couldn't have died at a worse time,” Cable growled, glaring down at the prone form of Deadpool a few feet away, completely eviscerated. “We could really use his help here.” 

“He'll wake up eventually,” Domino said, flipping and twisting in the air as she dodged the creatures' snapping jaws. “I'm sure we can hold out until then.” 

Cable grunted, firing his plasma-rifle into the pack of predators. 

“Look at it this way,” Domino said, flipping over the back of one of the creatures, grabbing onto one of its spines. She flipped forward and drove a dagger into one of the beast's eyes, making it roar and writhe in pain as it tried to shake her off. “At least he's not a mutant, so we can leave his body there without being worried he'll get eaten!”

Cable grunted again, dodging under a clawed hand and moving out of the way as he fired into the monster's face. 

He was running, plasma-rifle in his hands as he tried to move to a better vantage point, when something grabbed his ankle and he tumbled to the ground, plasma-rifle skittering across the ground. 

**“Hey!”** He was lying down and there was a red and black mask grinning in his face. **“It's a sleepover!”**

One of the predators roared, lunging at them, and in a movement that was almost too quick to see, Deadpool had a sword plunged through the roof of the monster's mouth. **“Ah-ah! I don't remember inviting _you!_ ”**


	13. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you for agreeing to help. My son is in a difficult position.”

* * *

“Thank you for agreeing to help,” Scott Summers said, though his mouth was all twisted up. “My son is in a difficult position.”

 **“Hm, yes,”** Deadpool hummed, examining the situation, the T-O writhing from Nathan's body. **“You should keep a better eye on him.”** The mercenary walked a large circle around the infected mutant. **“Tell me, Mr. Summers, has your son eaten anything funny recently?”**

“Deadpool,” Scott growled. 

**“Like father like son, hm?”** Deadpool said, tilting his head and tapping his chin. **“Well, then. We probably shouldn't involve Xavier in this. We don't want him to die, now do we?”**

 _“Deadpool,”_ Scott growled. 

**“Oh, the similarities make my heart beat faster!”** the mercenary crooned, pressing a hand over his chest. **“Tell me, does that pink-haired kid exist in this universe?”**

“Are you going to help him or not?!” Scott snapped, and the mercenary sighed dramatically. 

**“I guess that's a No, then,”** Deadpool mused, pulling out a noteback and make a scribbling motion with a crayon. **“Well, it looks like we're down to Plan C, then!”**

And then Deadpool tucked the notebook and crayon back in one of his pouches and swaggered over to the T-O infected mutant, poking a tendril of living-metal substance with a booted foot. **“Yo, Priscilla. Snap out of it.”**

The metal tendrils roared further to life, wrapping around him and lifting him into the air, where he hung upside down. 

**“Your dad is _totes_ gonna ground you for this,”** Deadpool said.

A strand of living-metal pierced his head, starting to spread into him. 

**“Boo,”** the mercenary intoned, and the T-O let go of him, shrieking away. 

**“That's right,”** Deadpool said, picking himself up off the ground, stalking towards the prone body of his friend that was writhing with living metal. He giggled. **“Get back inside your prison.”**

The tendrils of metal receded into Nathan, who gasped as he blinked still-unseeing eyes. 

“...Wade?”

 **“You suck as a jailer, Nate,”** Deadpool said, turning around and walking away, waving a hand over his shoulder. **“Toodle-oo!”**


	14. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under normal circumstances he would speak his mind, but, with a gun against his head...

* * *

Under normal circumstances he would speak his mind, but, with a gun against his head, he had to be more careful. 

Now that his healing factor was gone, and all. 

**“So,”** Deadpool said, grinning awkwardly. **“Did you need something, Priscilla?”**

 _“Wade,”_ Cable growled furiously, finger tightening on the trigger. _“What are you doing here?”_

The safety was off. Deadpool's mask was on. Wade's face was hidden. 

**“You _do_ know that I lost my healing factor and am normal now, right?”** Wade asked hesitantly, raising a beautiful blond eyebrow behind the mask. 

Cable blinked. “What?” 

**“Made you hesitate,”** Wade grinned, the gun now safe in his own hands. 

_“Wade!”_ Cable growled, lunging for the gun, but the mercenary flipped and hand-sprung out of the way, landing on top of the large white van parked outside the new X-Force base. 

Cable tensed, waiting for the mercenary to shoot up. 

The gun clip was expelled, clattering on the ground, making the mutant flinch, only to stare down at the emptied ammo in surprise. 

**“Now can we talk like civilized adults?”** Deadpool grinned down at him, placing the empty gun beside him. 

Cable looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Wade?”

Deadpool grinned and spread his arms. **“Losing one's immortality can change a person's outlook on life, I hear.”**

Cable raised his brows. “So that wasn't just something you said to catch me off guard so you could steal my weapon?”

Wade pulled off his mask, flashing his old friend with a dazzling grin, sunlight shining on his smooth skin and glowing in his luscious blond hair. **“What do you think?”**


	15. Creep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There's someone in the house!”

* * *

Deadpool had just tumbled into his apartment through the window, laying there on the floor trying to draw breaths into his partially collapsed lungs, when he heard a noise in the other room. 

**“There's someone in the house!”** Deadpool whispered, lifting his head to look in the direction of the sound. 

**{KILL IT!}** said one of the voices in his head. 

_[Get out,]_ advised the voice that was an expert in reverse psychology. _[You can hardly walk.]_

Chuckling slightly, Deadpool pushed himself to his feet, starting to limp towards the kitchen where the sound was coming from, blood smearing across the floor from his lame leg. 

**“Terrible things go bump in the night,”** Deadpool sang, slipping a dagger from the sheath strapped to his thigh. **“Terrible, terrible things.”**

Something shattered, and the mysterious figure jumped and shrieked. 

“...Wade?” came a frightened voice. 

**{LOL!}** said one of the voices in his head. 

_[Kill him,]_ the voice that specialized in reverse psychology suggested. 

**“Say my name, and I shall appear,”** Deadpool purred, stepping out in front of the shorter man, a dagger at his throat. 

Weasel squeaked. “Wade! I didn't… I mean…”

 **“What are you doing in my apartment, Weaz?”** Deadpool asked, his voice still trashed as his vocal chords continued to repair themselves. It came out more threatening than weak. **“And all alone in the dark, too? You know what can happen when you're alone in the dark somewhere you're not supposed to be...”**

Weasel swallowed audibly. “I came to… return that porn DVD… that I borrowed… I couldn't find the light switch… uh, is this the kitchen? I think I accidentally knocked over a glass… I was aiming for your bedroom… did you move the furniture around? I swear I tripped over a coffee table that wasn't where it was supposed to be...” 

Deadpool laughed and turned on the light. 

Weasel was probably the only person in the entire world who would actually give a sigh of relief and smile when the light turned on to find Wade looking like a living corpse, still bleeding with pieces missing.

“Oh, good, it really is you,” Weasel said, smiling at him unflinchingly, expressing neither fear nor concern nor curiosity. No 'Holy shit!' or 'Are you okay?' or 'What happened to you?!'

Wade chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder with a bloodied hand. **“I could say the same thing about you too, Weaz!”**


	16. Girlfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she opened the door, she wished—

* * *

When Wanda Wilson opened the door, she wished that she'd brought a buzooka instead of her swords. 

**“Oh, I _hate_ fighting adamantium robots,”** she sighed, blocking an attack with her katanas. **“It's absolutely _no fun_ when I can't chop shit up!”**

There was a blast from a plasma-rifle so close to her arm that she could feel the spandex singe. 

“Then find a way,” came Natalie Summers' unaffected voice, and Wanda glanced over to see the taller woman toss her head of gorgeous white hair and fire another shot into the swarm of robots that were crawling out of the woodwork like really, really big termites. 

That plasma-rifle was nearly as big as she was, and she wielded it like it was nothing. 

**“Yea—agh!”** Wanda said, as a robot punched its fist through her abdominal cavity. **“We can't—nng—all be Miss Perfect, you know,”** she muttered, as the robot lifted her up.

“Says the woman who makes doing the impossible look easy,” Natalie said, rolling out of the way of a repulsor blast, landing up on one knee and shooting a hole through the robot's chest. 

The robot holding Wanda opened its mouth to blast her with a laser inside its face, and she stabbed a sword down through its mouth into the mechanics inside. **“Oh hey, they _do_ have a weak spot!”**

“Knew you'd find one,” Natalie called, vaulting around one robot's shoulder to kick another in the face. 

**“Yeah yeah, you know everything,”** Wanda said cheerfully, pushing herself off the robot's arm and landing in a crouch, looking up as she twirled her swords, grinning behind her mask. Her long blond ponytail swung behind her. **“Alright, robots. Who wants a kiss?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting an excuse to write something with Lady Deadpool and Lady Cable since _forever,_ omg.


	17. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Promise me you'll look after your mother.”

* * *

Deadpool gasped for breath, clutching the huge gaping hole in his chest as he staggered to his knees, blood darkening the mask where his mouth was. 

**“My young Padawan,”** he gasped, reaching out a hand for the bemused Nathan. **“Promise me you'll look after your mother.”**

“Wade,” Nathan sighed, a palm coming up over his face. “You're not dying.”

 **“Yes I am!”** Deadpool said, sounding offended. **“My heart was just punched out of my chest! I'm literally dy—”** he fell over. 

Nathan sighed, removing his hand from his face and looking at his watch. 

Five… four… three… two… 

**“Well, I _did_ die,”** Deadpool said, sitting up and rubbing quickly-healing chest. **“For, you know, a few seconds.”**

“Which doesn't really count as being dead,” Nathan pointed out. “It's not that uncommon for someone's heart to stop beating for several seconds and for them to be revived afterwards.”

 **“Are we forgetting that my heart was _completely punched out of my chest?_ ”** Deadpool asked, standing up and brushing the dust off his ass.

“Really?” Nathan said, looking at his chest where scarred, grotesque skin was visible though a huge hole in the suit. “I can't tell.” 

**“Douche,”** Deadpool said, punching him hard in the arm. 

The left arm. 

The metal arm. 

**“Fuck!”** Deadpool said, shaking out his head, the fingers limp and crooked. **“You broke my hand!”**

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” Nathan said, kneeling before him and taking Deadpool's broken hand in his, gently kissing the gloved knuckles, looking up at him. “Are you alright, Wade?” 

Deadpool stared at him in disbelief. **“I get my heart punched out of my chest and die, and you show no concern at all, and then I break my hand on your arm and suddenly you're all mushy on me?”**

Nathan smirked against the reforming fingers.


	18. A-OK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fire was getting closer.

* * *

The fire was getting closer. 

The heat was searing, even several feet away from the red and orange and yellow flames lapping from the ground and walls and ceiling like huge, forked demon tongues flicking desperately through a portal between their dimension and the human one, trying to devour everything they could grasp. 

And if the flames were demon tongues, then the smoke was demon breath, dark and thick and choking, suffocating, smothering, filling Wade's lungs until he couldn't breathe. 

It was a good thing, then, that Wade wasn't alive, and oxygen deprivation didn't really keep him from moving. 

It was a blessing. It was a curse. It was a gift, a talent, an affliction. 

His handkerchief he should have been covering his mouth and nose with was over the mouth and nose of the little girl in his arms. 

**“Keep your eyes closed,”** he told her, his own watering as he carried her, hunching over to stay underneath most of the smoke—not for him, but for _her_ —and headed for the window, walking quickly but carefully. 

If the floor gave in beneath him, he would survive the fall, but _she_ wouldn't. 

His lungs weren't working, his lungs filled with so much smoke that he would have been dead, if he were anyone else. 

But he wasn't. 

He was Wade Wilson, and when he said **“Hold your breath”** and jumped from the window with the girl in his arms into the pool down below, swimming to the surface and depositing the girl on the edge where the firemen took her and checked her vitals, it was alright. 

And when the firemen pulled him out of the water, saying in horror, “He's terribly burnt! Someone get a stretcher over here!” and he wasn't actually burnt, his scarred skin fooling them, it was still alright. 

And when they put him in the back of an ambulance, driving him to the hospital, panicked as they tried to keep him alive, but he was already dead, it was alright. 

They looked away for a moment, marking down that he was deceased, and when they looked back, he was gone, the ambulance doors swinging open to reveal the road rushing by behind them. 

They never did find the dead body. 

It had gotten up and walked away.


	19. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had waited twenty years to return it.

* * *

He had waited twenty years to return it. 

It sat there on his dresser, a completely inconsequential item. A random paperweight he'd picked up off Nathan's desk one day while in Nathan's office, trying to get the man's attention while being completely ignored. 

Nathan had refused to look at him, despite what he tried, so he'd reached out and taken the paperweight, throwing it from hand to hand.

Nathan still hadn't looked at him. 

Wade had thrown the paperweight up into the air a few times, and when that still didn't get a reaction, he'd tucked it into one of his pouches.

It still didn't get a reaction. 

So he'd walked out with it, the paperweight like a prize in his pouch, making him feel something like triumph , like maybe he hadn't completely lost. 

He kept waiting for Nathan to ask for it, but he never did. He probably hadn't even noticed it was gone. It's not like it was an item of any worth, after all. 

A random paperweight, a glass dome with a colorful butterfly design on the bottom. You couldn't even see anything when you looked at it sideways from eye-level, you had to look at it from the top. 

And then Nathan had left, gone off into the future to save the universe, and Wade had kept the paperweight on his dresser in case Nathan ever came back for it. 

Wade found himself sitting there and just staring at it, sometimes. That paperweight with the butterfly design. 

It reminded him of that proverb or whatever it was:

_If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies._

It was twenty years before Nathan came back again. He'd only aged maybe three years. Wade hadn't aged a day.

Nathan showed up at his door, twenty years later, as if nothing had changed. Wade had stared at him. 

“Hello, Wade,” Nathan had smiled. 

Wade had stepped aside to let him in, then walked to his bedroom, fetched the paperweight from his dresser, walked back out to find Nathan lingering by the couch, too unsure to sit down. 

Wade handed him the paperweight. **“I had that for twenty years. I don't even remember why I stole it in the first place.”**

_I don't even remember why I loved you._

It might have been only three years, for Nathan, but it had been twenty years for Wade, and that was a long time to hold onto memories, especially for someone who's braincells were constantly dying and regenerating and mixing things up and losing pieces in the process. 

Nathan stared at the butterfly at the bottom of the glass dome, frowning slightly. “You stole this from me?”

 **“Yeah,”** Wade said, sitting down on his couch and turning on his TV with the remote. **“I thought you might want it back.”**

Nathan tried to tell him something, but Wade ignored him, and Nathan eventually left. 

Things had changed, and the butterfly that had been whatever love they'd had between them, had died and turned to dust. 

_If nothing ever changed, there would be no death; and, ergo, there would be no life._

It made Wade laugh, sometimes, the irony of it all.


	20. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress.”

“Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress,” Domino said, arms crossed over her chest as she glared. 

**“Um,”** Deadpool said, blinking at her as he smoothed down the skirt of his sleeveless, bubblegum-pink prom dress, glitter raining from the material as he brushed his hands over it. **“Because they're pretty, obviously.”**

“Not a good reason,” Domino said. 

**“It's not?”** Deadpool asked, tilting his head. **“Then what's the point of wearing dresses?”**

“Beats me,” Domino shrugged, turning around and flipping a dagger from her belt, making a show of examining it. “I've never liked wearing dresses, myself. And the only thing cool about high-heels is that it takes skills to move around in them without falling and twisting an ankle.” 

**“Hear that?”** Deadpool said, lifting up his skirt to show off his silver high-heels, pointing one foot and turning it this way and that. **“I've got skills!”**

Domino sighed, shaking her head, a white hand resting over the black patch of skin around her left eye. “Why are you wearing a dress and high-heels, Deadpool?” 

**“Because it makes me feel pretty and talented!”** Deadpool grinned, twirling around gracefully, glitter showering from the skirt. **“Don't you think it looks good on me?”**

“Can't fight worth shit in a dress,” Domino grumbled, sighing exasperatedly. 

Deadpool sauntered up to her, a grin stretched behind the mask. **“Is that a challenge, Dom?”**

A smirk curled black lips. “Yes, I think that it is.” 

**“If I win, you wear a dress,”** Deadpool crooned, pulling his katanas out from behind him. 

Domino hummed in thought, a finger over her lips. “...If I win,” she decided, “you have to cook me pancakes, and then serve them to me while wearing your nicest suit.” 

**“It's a deal!”** Deadpool said, and Domino reached for her own blades.


	21. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had to make sure that none of their colleagues noticed...

* * *

They had to make sure that none of their colleagues noticed what was going on between them. 

The furtive glances, the slight touches that lingered a beat too long, the softened smiles, the whispers in gentle voices.

It was hard to hide things from the other members of X-Force—they were part of X-Force because they were the best there was at what they did—but Wade loved a good challenge, and Nathan had spent his entire life burying his emotions.

It didn't help that they didn't know what was going on between them themselves.

Wade Wilson could not love; he was too crazy to. He didn't know what it meant to care for something without destroying it. 

Nathan Summers could not love; he was too untouchable, too distanced, too cold, too controlling. A military leader could not love any of his soldiers when it was his job to send them to their deaths. 

They had to make sure their colleagues didn't notice what was going on between them, lest they jump to conclusions and think that it was love. 

It wasn't love. It couldn't be love. 

If they were in love, then they were both in danger. Because neither of them could love without tearing apart the other.


	22. Mercenaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you leave now, you get nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU.

* * *

“If you leave now, you get nothing,” Wade called, the suitcases of blood money at his feet.

Nathan turned and kept walking.

“Do you think you'll get out of this world so easily?” Wade called, and he was laughing, the maniacal sound that haunted the dreams of everyone who had heard it and survived the experience. 

Everyone except for Nathan, the teenage assassin who'd come under the tutelage of the infamous Deadpool after he'd accidentally encroached on one of the blond man's missions. The teenage assassin who hadn't been afraid even with the underworld's most gifted mercenary laughing insanely and standing over him with a sword already dripping in sanguine.

Because for the first time in his blood-soaked life, Nathan hadn't been alone. 

“You chose this life, Nate,” came Wade's laughter-breathless voice as Nathan kept walking. “You chose this life, and you dug yourself in deep. You're not gonna get out that easily, you know. You're already six feet under—nobody comes back from that.” 

Nathan paused. “I have to try.” He ignored the strands of brown and white hair in his vision that reminded him of what he was: a genetically enhanced super soldier taught to kill from the moment he could walk. “And you're wrong, Wade—I never chose this life. I'm not like you. I wasn't born to be a killer—I was _raised_ to be one.” 

“Nature versus nurture,” came Wade's voice, amused. “There's no difference, really.” Said the man who'd grown up a normal human with a normal childhood and then threw it all away to become a killer, starting with his own father. 

Wade could have become _anything_ , and he'd chosen to become a mercenary.

Nathan's fists clenched. “There _is_. There _is_ a difference.” 

_Nathan_ would never kill an innocent child just because she'd seen them, not like Wade just had. 

There were few things that bothered Soldier X, but killing children was one of them. 

“Just keep telling yourself that, Nate,” came Wade's voice, sultry and low, sounding too close even from several feet away. “Keep telling yourself that you're not like me.” That maniacal laugh. “You can run all you want, but I'll see you again in hell.” 

Nathan kept walking, feeling himself grow ~~lonelier~~ _cleaner_ with each step away from the madman in the red and black mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent way more than ten minutes on this one. It was giving me difficulties.


	23. Downwiththesickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's all bills, bills, bills. That's my only answer now," he said, pointing to—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU.

There was a long cut on Wade's handsome face, a bruise around his eye, a split in his lip, the words _I've been killing people for money_ still ringing in the silence between them.

Nathan's throat was dry. “Why?” he croaked out, trying to sit up in the hospital bed.

The cancer made him weak and held him down. Nathan soon gave up.

Wade was pacing, waving his hands. "It's all bills, bills, bills. That's my only answer now," he said, pointing to the pile of housing and medical bills he'd left on the chair he'd vacated. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“You don't have to kill people,” Nathan rasped out, his eyes stinging. 

“Yeah, and how else am I supposed to get enough money to cover everything?” Wade growled out. He ran a hand back through his blond hair as he glared at the younger man on the bed. “Do you even realize how fucking expensive this stuff is?! This country's medical insurance is shit.” 

Nathan's throat was dry. “Since when...” he tried to wet his lips. His eyes were stinging. “Since when do you know enough about killing people to become a mercenary?” 

Wade sighed, sitting down gently on the bed, reaching out to put a hand over Nathan's. “I told you that I used to be part of special forces, didn't I?” 

Nathan clenched his eyes shut. His throat was dry. “But… why?” was all he could manage. 

“I can't lose you,” Wade said, and his voice was so close to sounding wrecked. “I _can't_. You're everything to me.”

Nathan opened his eyes, meeting the blue ones above him that bored into his own. “So you'd… take lives… in order to save mine?” His throat was dry. 

“As many as it takes,” Wade said, voice low, desperate, determined. 

Nathan's eyes shifted from his lover's, staring at the far wall beyond him. “Wade…” his voice cracked. His throat was dry. “Don't… don't get yourself killed…”

“Shh,” Wade said, picking up a glass of water, putting it to Nathan's lips. “It's okay.” 

Nathan drank.

When Wade pulled the glass away, he was smiling softly, and Nathan's throat was no longer dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's the one with cancer whaaaaat.
> 
> Took quite a bit longer than ten minutes again, lol.


	24. Colorless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only the very oldest people remembered a time when humans could see in color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU.

* * *

Only the very oldest people remembered a time when humans could see in color.

For almost ninety years, humans could only see in black and white monochrome, the ability to perceive color removed from their brains from the nuclear fallout of the third world war. 

Humans had tried to protect themselves from the radiation, and they'd succeeded, to an extent. They kept themselves from getting cancer, from their bodies degrading on them. 

They'd saved their lives, but not their color vision. 

“What does color look like, Nate?” Wade asked, lying on his back on the floor, arms behind his head. 

“I don't know, Wade,” Dr. Summers said, clipboard in his hands as he watched his patient, pencil poised. 

“What do you mean you don't know?” Wade asked, pushing himself up on his elbows to narrow his eyes at his psychologist. “You're old.” 

“I'm not that old, Wade,” Dr. Summers said patiently.

“You have white hair,” his patient pointed out.

“It started going white when I was in my early twenties,” Dr. Summers said, smiling slightly. “My hair was fully white by the time I was thirty.” 

“And how old are you now?” Wade asked, lying back down on the floor, tucking his arms back beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling. He bent one leg up, resting the other over his knee, his foot bouncing in the air. 

“Forty-three,” Dr. Summers said. 

“So you really don't remember what colors look like?” Wade asked, turning his head to look at him, foot still bouncing. 

“No,” Dr. Summers said. “I don't.” 

“But you know the name of the colors, right?” Wade said, turning back to look up at the ceiling. “Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.” 

“I've heard them, yes,” Dr. Summers said. 

“Blind Al says that yellow is the color of sunshine and piss,” Wade said, reaching a hand up, tracing words on the ceiling. “She says that orange is the color of happiness and fire, that green is the color of grass and nausea, that blue is the color of the sky and the ocean and sadness, that purple is the color of old love being rich and that red is the color of young love and anger.”

“Do you believe her?” Dr. Summers asked. 

“Al's blind,” Wade said, hand tucking itself back behind his head. “I don't think she's ever seen color in her life. I think she's just old and remembers what people told her about colors, y'know?” 

“I don't,” Dr. Summers said. 

Wade hummed. “I think that red is the color of pain.” 

“Is that why you cut yourself, Wade?” Dr. Summers asked. 

Wade turned his head to look at him, grinning. “I like you, Nate. You never tell me I'm crazy, like all the other psychs they've sent me to do.” 

“I don't think you're crazy, Wade,” Dr. Summers said. He stilled hadn't written anything down. “I just think you have some unhealthy habits you need help breaking out of.” 

He looked back at the ceiling, reaching a hand up, the long sleeve sliding down slightly to reveal dark scars on pale skin. “I think I can see color sometimes, Nate. I think I see red when I cut myself.” 

He turned his arm this way and that, admiring the slashes, a blissful smile on his face. “It's so beautiful, Nate. The red of blood. I wish you could see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept taking way longer than ten minutes, lol. I think I failed the challenges. 
> 
> Whatever.
> 
> Hopefully I at least got some interesting stuff out of them, though.


End file.
